Remember
by ArlkatThePillowfighter
Summary: I found the start of this forever ago, and a month ago I finished it, and just now I'm posting it. I'll admit I haven't even read it yet.


**Okay, I'll admit I had no idea what this was supposed to be when I found it buried deep inside (yeah you're all thinking that now aren't you proud) my google drive. It was written up until just before Dave starts talking, and I think maybe it was a horror fanfic. Whatever, it's cool and fluffy. eNJOY! (calm down keyboard)**

You don't remember where you are.

You don't remember how you got here.

You don't remember… years. Years of your life. Not hazy, just… blank. Like someone just plucked them out of your head.

You lean against something - a sign? - as you try to remember the last thing you can. You… you were talking to someone. A brief memory of red text sparks your vision, but nothing else happens. You don't remember anything else, pretty much nothing of your life. You don't even remember who your parents are.

Almost as if on cue, the moment you think the word _parents_, a nauseating wave of horror and grief passes over you. Dead. That's all you can think.

Well, that answers one question.

You shake your head, look around. You're on a street corner, it seems familiar. You don't see any cars. Like, at all. You walk across the street.

All of a sudden someone practically screams your name, slamming into you and hugging you so hard it hurts. A lot.

"John! Oh, fuck, man! I was worried I wouldn't be able to find you, or that I lost you… It's been over a month! he moment I woke up - in fucking _Texas_, no doubt - I found Bro's stash and got myself a plane over to Washington, and goddamnit John I missed you, where the fuck have you _been_?!"

You don't understand a word of what this guy just said. "E-Excuse me?" You stutter out, and suddenly he lets you go, and you get a good look at him.

He looks like the kind of guy you'd be afraid to walk on the same side of the street with. He's tall, taller than you, with a neatly combed shock of purely white hair. A pair of dark, mirrored aviators rest on the bridge of his nose, and a dazzling white grin - which is slowly slipping, might you add - with a black ring on either side of his bottom lip beneath that. He's lanky and very pale, wearing a thick leather jacket over a red, white, and black seemingly random patterned tee shirt. Around his neck is a red studded choker, and the most normal-looking thing he's wearing are black skinny jeans and bright red converse. And although you get this weird feeling just from looking at him, you certainly don't remember him.

"Awh, c'mon Egderp, don't even try to pull that pranking shit on me, not after what we've been through. I'd recognize that dorky haircut from a mile away."

You simply shake your head. "I-I'm sorry, I… I don't know you."

He starts to look concerned. "Are you serious? John, for fuck's sake, it's _me_! Dave! Dave motherfucking Strider, man! You can't tell me you don't remember me. We were friends for years even _before_ the Game."

Game. That sparks, but it doesn't quite catch. "Game? What game?" You're suddenly intrigued.

He gives you this hopeful look. "The Game. SBURB. C'mon, you know this stuff. Me and you and Rose and Jade… the trolls - er, Karkat, Terezi, Vriska…? Jack? God tiering? You can't not remember dying."

You don't understand any of it, but suddenly you feel like you know him. Like he's been there for you for everything and you don't want him to leave. Ever.

You stare at him, and he stares back with -

Red. Red eyes, red text.

Wait - you can't see his eyes.

You're suddenly filled with a weird hope. "Red!"

He gives you this weird look. "What?"

"Red." You motion to his shades. "They're red, aren't they? I remember."

He grins, pushing them up into his hair, and they are indeed a brilliant crimson. "I bet you just need to spend more time with me, Egbert. It'll come to you soon, I promise. We'll get you to remember."

Looking into his eyes you remember something else and you slap a hand over your mouth and blush. What?!

"What is it? What else do you remember?" He has this look in his eyes, the one that means he knows exactly what you're thinking.

How do you know that?

Oh, god damn. Either this is the most cleverly elaborated ruse in the history of mankind… Or you are a fucking _homosexual_.

You're slightly more inclined to believe the former.

But you're not the one in control of your body anymore, and suddenly you pull him down and kiss him.

And you remember.

Well, you don't remember _all_ of it, but it's a start, and Dave's here to help.

**(Okay I had that written up for another month after I wrote that up there… I'm still writing my SNstuck season 2 episode 1 and i'm working on a couple other things including my LITTLE BLACK NOTEBOOK OF SAD among other things.)**


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